Oppressive Force
by Tovarisch Snipes
Summary: The G-Man has finally decided to send Adrian Shephard into the dystopian Combine world of Earth after 20 years in limbo. He will meet new allies, old enemies, and a threat bigger than the Combine itself. T due to language, Violence, and very mild sexual references.
1. Awoken

**Authors Note: **Well, I'd like to say hi, and welcome to my very first chapter of my very first story. (halfhearted confetti and whistle blowing). I hope you enjoy Oppressive Force, the continuation of the story of our favorite HECU grunt, Corporal Adrian Shephard.

**Prologue**

_It's been a long, time, Corporal Shephard, hasn't it?_

Adrian snapped his eyes open, giving his attention to a certain blue suited man with a heavy lisp.

_I suppose that, given your... capabilities, I would assume that, in all fairness that I would have given you, the option of letting Black Mesa not get destroyed, hmm?_

_That, and I would allow you to either be a pawn of, your... generals rather than_

_an employee of me, but, I am not personally a man to, give such liberties, so I have opted to, choose for you. Much like last time, I presume._

_You caused the deaths of thousands, you bastard. _Adrian thought. _I had deactivated the nuke at Black Mesa. But you just had to activate it for your own agenda._ Adrian wanted to say this so badly, but he was paralyzed in front of the blue suited man.

_All you need to do is survive, but, it is often much more... complex than that. You are a man of brute strength, but you, have shown time and, time again that you are more than simply a grunt. _

_Damn straight, _the soldier thought.

_In response, I have chosen you, along with a... _similar_ man, to partake on a special mission. This, is of the most importance to, myself and you. So, Corporal, it's time to set you out, on a... 'spec op', as you would call it._

He smiled, and Adrian soon felt his body feel heavy as lead. He was laying on some sort of... gooey... substance, he rationalized as mud. He was face down, noticing a crack in the gasmask he wore.

_Well, shit. _

He soon heard the rumble of an approaching vehicle. It noticeably jerked to a halt a few yards away from him. He heard the opening and closing of a door, followed by squelching footsteps.

"Alpha, this is Kingfish, we have a body by the side of the road, still breathing, how copy?"

The voice was female, as far as he could tell.

"Copy, sex and attire?"

"I think male, and... urban camouflage and a green armor vest. He has a gasmask."

"He Combine?"

"If he is, its experimental."

"Alright, bring him to base. See what we can find out about him."

"Copy."

Another male voice sounded.

"I think we should put a bullet in his head and be done with it."

"Dammit, Jack, have a fucking heart for once, will ya? Help me pick him up."

The feeling of being picked up slowly awoke him. His eyes fluttered open slowly, almost as if he was debating whether to open them.

He saw the face of a youngish woman, early 20's, maybe late. Her face was spotted with freckles and pale, along with red hair in a pony tail.

"Don't worry, stranger. You're in good hands."

He was going to mutter a reply, but the feeling of being tossed in the back of a cargo truck knocked the wind out of him. He closed his eyes, falling into a dreamless slumber. Approximately when the vehicle started moving did he finally black out, oblivious to the world around him.

**END OF CHAPTER 1**

Reviews appreciated!


	2. Awoken Part 2

**Authors Note: **I promised I'd make the next chapter longer. And I did. So, yay.

…...

Well, this was kinda pointless.

Oh, yeah! There's a Shephard's Mind reference in here. Might wanna look for that.

When he finally awoke, Adrian rubbed the crust from his eyes. He felt himself over, noticing he was in a more comfortable shirt, along with his normal urban camo cargo pants. He sill had his boots on as well, but he then noticed something; his PCV was gone.

Immediately, in his groggy, not-fully-awake state, he became paranoid, thinking they took his PCV for their own devices. He finally sat up, and winced at a mild pain in his calf. However, another pain went though his stomach: Hunger. Those two feelings wiped the paranoia from his mind. He then noticed a small cheese sandwich on a paper plate, on a counter next to a rusty sink long beyond repair.

He picked it up with his fingerless gloved hand and began to devour it like he'd never seen food before. He was then interrupted by the sound of an opening door. He spun around, the sandwich half in his hand, half in his mouth. What he saw was a scowling old man in a powder blue suit and red tie, along with a white shirt. His hair was gray and orderly, albeit a bit dry-looking.

"Are you enjoying my lunch?"

_Shit._

"Oh, uh... sorry. I... I didn't kno-"

He sighed loudly, cutting him off.

"It's alright, I suppose. You've been asleep for 3 days. It's reasonable that you would eat like a damn animal."

Adrian looked at the food in his hand, then back to him.

"Eat it. We don't tolerate wasting food."

He sighed quietly and crammed the rest into his mouth, chewing it, enjoying the taste of the simple food.

"Now then, if you're not going to steal my tie while you're at it, I'd suggest going outside. There's a girl there, around your age. Few inches shorter than you, red hair, ponytail, you'll know her when you see her."

_Christ, I said I was sorry..._

He walked out, rubbing a finger over his chin. Yep, it felt like steel wool. Adrian hoped he could find a razor in this place. He then overheard the old man mumble something about everyone ruining his lunch, closing the door Adrian stepped out of.

He finally got a good look where he was. He was at the end of a large hangar, a couple Ospreys and a Cessna parked in front of him, the transport VTOLs armed with some kind of autocannon on either side of the hull. The Cessna was painted a faded gray, the Osprey's painted more of a black color. Either leaning on the walls or working on the Osprey's were a bunch of men and women, most between the ages of 20 to 40. They were dressed in some kind of light blue uniform with black boots and a tan rucksack on their backs, along with a black vest. A large number of males were wearing beanies, along with a couple of women having them.

He got a couple looks and whispers in his direction, him deciding to ignore them. Suddenly, a woman of the old man's description ran up to him, while unlike most in a white jacket with a faded red cross on the shoulders rather than a yellow lambda.

"You that Shephard guy?"

"Yeah, why? And how do you know my name?"

"We read your nametag on that power vest. Follow me."

Adrian followed the woman, with so many questions to ask.

"Who was that guy in the..."

He turned around to look at the door he came out of, barely making out the spray painted white letters.

".. infirmary?"

"Oh, that's Magnusson. Don't worry, he always had a stick up his ass."

"Yeah, I kinda ate his lunch..."

She laughed and turned to him.

"Dude, really?"

"Yeah. He seemed pissed about it."

"Of course he was. He gets all worked up over things like that. You should see what happens when an experiment by one of the other scientists or engineers goes wrong and blows something up."

"Remind me to not blow anything up."

"Yeah. Anyway, the head honcho wants to see you. It's that door by the wall."

Adrian noticed the door he was referring to.

"Thanks. I'll see ya later."

He walked over to the door, two male guards holding Ak-12's accompanying him trough the hall. Adrian followed them in, his boots clomping against the floor. The door was opened for him, the guards following him inside.

Seated at a battered oak desk was a woman of about 30 years of age, wearing a decent black dress and a green lambda pin on her chest.

"So, you're our new arrival."

Adrian detected a large amount of authority in her voice, and on instinct saluted.

"Yes ma'am."

"At ease, Corporal. Take a seat."

He planted himself in a ratty old office chair as she held out her hand.

"Captain Isobel Kutuzov, Russian Armed Forces."

Adrian took Isobel's hand and shook it.

"Corporal Adrian Shephard, USMC."

Her eyes widened at his reply.

"How did a jarhead like you get into Russia?"

"I.. I don't know, honestly." 

"Do you even have any idea what's going on?"

Adrian then tensed up a bit.

"No, Captain."

She scoffed.

"Great, an amnesiac."

She filled him in slightly on the current situation in the world regarding the Combine and the Resistance movement. He didn't really know how to respond.

_Damn, I guess the future really DOES suck._


	3. Range Day

**Authors Note:** Sorry about my absence, I've been having to do an assload of testing and schoolwork, so I've been unable to write. And as a side note, I have changed the Overwatch Pulse Rifle to the OICW, a cut weapon from the HL2 Beta I really wish was in the release version.

By the way, my heart goes out to everyone in Baltimore right now. Especially those innocent people trapped in that warzone. May luck be with you.

_3 days later. . . _

Adrian was currently in one of the makeshift firing ranges the base had set up behind the main complex. He was getting a feel for the weapons the Resistance was able to scrounge up from old military bases and Combine armory raids. Hell, there were some with dried Combine blood on them, supposedly from a recent raid on a Combine outpost near City 17, which also supposedly used to St. Petersburg, but 20 years can make you forget a lot.

He was holding a typical pistol that the Resistance often used as a sidearm. It was nicknamed the 'Match', possibly in reference to a USP Match. Adrian loaded the clip in and pressed his thumb down on the slide lock, feeling the jerk as it clicked into place. He pressed in the safety lock on the side of the trigger guard and sighted the pistol. He placed his fingertip on the trigger and squeezed it, making sure not to pull it, as pulling it loosens the grip on the gun a bit, leading to more recoil.

The 9MM round flew down the range to hit a steel target with a bullseye crudely spraypainted on the front, as evidenced by the paint dripping a bit when it dried. When the round slammed into the target, the sheet of metal wobbling a bit on it's wooden stand. He followed up with the rest of the Glock like clip size of 18 rounds, all the targets hitting within the outer ring.

"Heh, maybe you can hold your own in a fight."

Adrian pressed the mag release and clicked on the safety, setting the gun down before turning around.

"Eh, I try."

"Well, you shoot good for a recently dead guy, anyway."

The man was an African American looking like he was in his late 30's, the male dread that is gray hair slowly creeping up from the roots of his strands of hair. He was wearing the normal outfit of a regular Resistance uniform, except with a green jacket instead of the regular blue. His chin was dusted with short strands of hair that lightly stuck out of his chin.

"Name's Leroy. You're name's Adrian, am I correct?"

Leroy held out his hand, and Adrian shook it.

"Yeah, nice to meet you."

He smirked and dropped his hand.

"You too. Anyway, we were able to grab some Overwatch rifles from an armory raid a few weeks back. They were easy to figure out, since they use a the same gas-blowback system used in the AR-15 platform. Since you were a Marine, I assume you're familiar with it, yes?"

"Yep, I had an M16A4. They were a bitch to maintain, especially in sandy areas. Sand would get kicked up in the receiver and you'd need to clean the damn thing out all the time."

"Well, there's not much sand out here, so I assume you'll be alright. You want to try it out? We're trying to find people qualified to use them: they're pretty damn powerful, but we were only able to salvage 300. We have about 740 people onbase that are in our armed forces, the other 500 being little families."

"Families? Doesn't the suppression field kill sperm cells?"

"Well, in the cities, yes. However, in the Outlands -which we are in-, there's a chance that when you have sex, a sperm cell or two will survive and reach the womb."

"Oh. What chance?"

"About... 6%? I'm not sure about that number, but let's say that people don't like to discuss their sex lives much."

"Ah. Anyway, shall we get the rifles?"

"Yeah, follow me."

Adrian followed the technician, walking through the vehicle bay. A number of stolen Combine APC's and LAV-25's were parked there with some mechanics working on them. A couple of others were playing a card game, jeers, cheers, and regular conversation spoken in Russian. After a few minutes, they came across a metal sign with one of the bolts missing labeled 'Armory'.

They stepped inside, and were greeted with crates of ammunition and weapons, a lot of seemingly retired CZ 858 rifles haphazardly put into a wooden box filled with old, yellow packing peanuts. Leaned against the wall were a series of bolt action rifles, a couple Adrian notices as Sako 85's, a popular hunting rifle before the Black Mesa Incident. There were also a couple of M40A5's, one with two scope covers with the elastic-like string between them duct taped together so it would function normally.

Adrian stopped drooling over all the guns and followed Leroy to a separate room. They stepped in to find a bunch of crates stacked on top of each other, along with some ammo crates lining the gray concrete walls. Leroy took a crowbar and pried open one of the boxes. In it was a sort of M4 style rifle, but with a large clip in a bullpup style, almost like specific variants of .50 caliber rifles.. There were two barrels, one small, one big. On top was a scope with a triangular housing, the lens being green. There was no magazine inside the main receiver, but the other magazine was still in. Leroy picked up the bulky weapon and handed it to Adrian.

"This is an OICW, Objective Individual Combat Weapon. It has a 4x scope, an overbarrel grenade launcher, and a standard AR-15 style chassis underneath.

Adrian whistled and took the weapon.

It weighed a _lot, _it being about 20 pounds unloaded. He took note it was back heavy, much unlike the standard M16, something Adrian hated about his old rifle.

"I'll let you shoot some regular rifle rounds, but those grenade rounds are too valuable, we cant use them."

"Aren't they in the hands of normal Combine Overwatch soldiers that you can normally find?"

"Actually, they seem new. We've only seen them in small quantities, and we may have stolen a group of field testing weapons. They work fine, however."

"Huh. Well, that's good."

"Get some ammo and head to the range."

Adrian nodded and pushed open the ammo crate. He took a STANAG and inserted it in the gun, noting that it wasn't that much heavier loaded. Then, he grabbed more mags. He took one of the grenades and noticed it was a 40mm, and heavy as hell. He put the grenade back down and walked to the range.

The Russian card players had abandoned their game and was working on a troop carrier truck. Two were bent over the exposed engine, speaking to each other.

"Vy dolzhny chto svechu?

"Da."

Adrian then walked to the range, Leroy setting up targets.

"In a second Corporal, wait a bit."

A few minutes later Leroy was back over the range table.

"Okay, take aim and try the gun out, see if you like it."

He nodded and took aim. He flipped the safety to 'fire' and squeezed the trigger. A surprisingly accurate stream of rounds hit the haystack targets until the clip ran dry.

"Nice job. If the Combine were golden, prickly cubes, they would fear your name."

"Hah, yeah right."

A half hour and a lot of spent brass later, Leroy spoke up.

"Well, I like to think that you're qualified. That's your gun now. Do what you want with it, but remember: That's the only one you get until further notice, okay?"

"Yeah, thanks man."

"No problem, Shephard. Have a good day."

'You too."

Adrian took his bulky rifle to the barracks and placed it beside his footlocker. He took off his combat gear and changed into some old pajama pants and a grey tank top. He settled into his bed, somewhat decent with an olive sheet and a pillow that didn't feel like a brick. Honestly, this compared to regular military life was sort of preferable.

Maybe things were looking up.


End file.
